


leave it in my dreams

by Anemoi



Category: The Strokes
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anemoi/pseuds/Anemoi
Relationships: Julian Casablancas/Albert Hammond Jr.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	leave it in my dreams

He hasn’t kissed Albert in years. 

Well the way the story goes is: they all stopped kissing each other and drifted apart, no longer a tight knit gang of new york city boys but some weird hybrid. There’s no adulthood in rock bands really, or nothing that people recognized anyway. There’s always that initial burst of youth and arrogance and everyone pointed at that and said _Look. They know what it’s all about. They’re going to reinvent rock and roll._ And some of them do. Some of them don’t. It’s just that narrow, the line of it. Then the boys grow older and they don’t fit together anymore, their limbs too long and their postures too awkward, and the band falls apart. Then, if they’re really lucky, they get a reunion show in ten years.

Anyway, back to the tight knit gang- Julian used to kiss all of them. On stage, in private. You could kiss anyone when you were twenty two and in a rock band and they would let you. Anyone could get away with anything. This is where he’d also say: _yes, I’ve tested that theory._ Not now though, he couldn’t imagine trying it on stage. There’s still that line of decorum, which doesn’t follow logically from beginning to end. He couldn’t imagine kissing Albert on the mouth now because it’s the same Albert but it’s not, the same smile and a different tilt to his head like he’s unsure how to be around Julian, like all the days and months apart multiplied together into something bigger. 

Which is funny, coming back to now. He hasn’t kissed Albert in years but Albert’s right here, dizzy eyes and smelling like someone poured a whole bottle of beer over him. Which is weird, like someone said, _Let’s give Julian what he wants. All of it._

“Did you spill beer on yourself?” Julian says. That wasn’t what Albert was expecting. Albert blinks and licks his lips to buy himself time to think about the answer which gives Julian time to think about how Albert looks, licking his lips. Probably instead of talking, Julian should’ve kissed him. He’s not very good at timing. When Albert finally makes his neurons fire enough to come up with an answer and opens his mouth, Julian leans forward. 

It’s a terrible kiss- you know the kind when you didn’t time it right, and Julian knows because as mentioned, he’s terrible at timing- Albert’s mouth is half open and Julian goes in mouth closed and it’s all so- terrible? The sort of terrible that if Julian were still twenty two and certain he could get away with anything he’d lean back and laugh, certain Albert would laugh with him. His lips meet Albert’s teeth. 

“Augh,” Albert says. Julian ends up moving his mouth- he has to, teeth is not the best thing ever for a kiss- but he couldn’t face actually moving back and maybe accidentally looking at Albert so he’s just, tilted sideways a bit with his face pressed against Albert’s cheek. He shuts his eyes - why hasn’t he thought of that before he pulled this weird shit? - and listens to Albert breath. Listening _and_ feeling. Has he been this close in years? 

“I didn’t,” Albert says, like nothing had just happened. Julian feels the vibrations from this too. 

“Fab did,” Albert continues. He’s maybe breathing a bit faster now, but Julian can’t tell if that’s because he’s too heavy now- no longer twenty two and a slender boy but not quite, you know, a man- or if Albert’s finally reacting to that terrible kiss. 

Albert doesn’t shove him off. Julian tries to plan his next move like a chess game and comes up empty. What would this move be? _Solus rex._ He didn’t know when they started playing on different boards. He buries his face deeper in Albert’s neck instead, which doesn’t smell like beer so much as unfamiliar cologne and sweaty man and tries to find a scent he doesn’t quite remember but feels like he should. Like a- I’ll know it when I see it sort of thing, except Julian doesn’t plan on opening his eyes soon.

“Julian,” Albert says, muffled by Julian’s hair, and he’s taking a hold of Julian’s face in his hands, still calloused just right - although don’t lie, Julian, it doesn’t feel familiar anymore, just calloused like how he expects them to be because Albert’s a guitarist, you know- and his thumbs fit strangely, under Julian’s cheekbones. He’s rubbing gentle circles on Julian’s face but Julian won’t open his eyes, so it’s really up to Albert now. Move the chess piece. Kick over the chessboard. Do anything. 

He kisses Julian right, which is the one thing Julian actually doesn’t expect. Maybe he’s been kissing terrible this whole time and Juliet- no. Better not think about Juliet. Better think only about what’s happening now, Albert’s hands on his face, Albert’s mouth open just right, no teeth this time. 

He just lets himself be kissed until Albert makes a frustrated noise, and Julian wants to laugh because it’s almost exactly the same sound Albert makes when he trips on his guitar cable. It’s surprising, how he remembers that. There’s _knowing_ and there’s _remembering._ Well, Julian isn’t a passive guitar cable to be tripped on or kissed by or however that particular metaphor would go, there’s a time to think and there’s a time to think and do. He slides his hands into Albert’s hair and anchors him just for a second to realign the angle between them until it’s _better,_ until it’s just right, until Albert’s panting when he breaks away. Julian still has his eyes closed. 

“Jules?” Albert asks. So Julian opens them. Albert’s mouth looks a little swollen, but they have been going at it for a bit. Hours. Years. Everything is a bit too bright when he’s had his eyelids scrunched up for so long. Albert looks tired but also younger than Julian’s brain wanted to admit. There’s a hairline fracture in his voice. Julian wants to prop a foot on it and apply pressure until it cracks all the way up the wall and breaks open. He wants to shut the lights and touch Albert in the dark. 

“Wanna turn off the light?” Julian says. 

Albert doesn’t look betrayed so much as- well. Julian can’t tell anymore, the blunt truth of it. He doesn’t have a cataloged list of Albert’s expressions and the old memory banks aren’t holding up to the new input. Albert gets up- Julian slides back onto the bed, unaware he’s been half on Albert- walks over to the light and flicks it off. 

It’s weird how now that there’s nothing to see Julian wants to keep his eyes open. He strains to catch a glimpse of Albert shuffling his way back, the hotel room layout still unfamiliar even though it’s sort of the same hotel room everywhere. 

“Here,” Julian calls out, pitching his voice high dramatically. “Over he-re.”

  
Albert laughs and then Julian feels the mattress dip under his weight. He can see the streetlights filtered past the window blinds painted onto Albert’s face, but just the side of it. A bit like a gig, then. They’re sitting in the dark, side by side. Julian wants to go back to kissing him, maybe even- 

“Jules?” Albert says. “Jules. What are you thinking?” 

This strikes Julian as particularly confusing. What else could he be thinking?  
  
“Fucking you,” Julian says, unprepared for the sharp intake of breath from Albert. Now he’s just wondering what Albert was thinking. He shuffles closer on the bed, awkwardly straddling Albert and then laughing when he realises it’s a terrible position, not just for fucking but for anything- Albert groans and pushes him over. They end up face to face on their sides like something from high school, pressed together like there’s no room because it’s a twin bed. But it isn’t, it’s just a ratty mattress in the Four Seasons, but it’s a Queen size bed at least. 

He reaches out a hand, experimental. Just like old times? How much like old times? Would Albert feel the same? He does. Albert still likes the same old things then, even if it’s an awkward hand job with Julian getting a hand cramp within a minute but pressing gamely on because he wants Albert to make that sound again. To keep making that sound, his hands on Julian’s wrist, his hand covering Julian’s hand on his cock, and when he comes Julian kisses him and now he’s really in the flow of things his timing is perfect. He feels Albert shudder and drops his forehead on Albert’s shoulder. It’s much less bony than what he remembered. Memory. Knowledge. Something new he can add to the files. 

Albert shuffles down the bed and Julian’s unbuckling his own jeans. It feels like unbuckling your jeans in a nightmare, his fingers slippery from come and catching on the fabric and Albert brushes Julian’s hands away. He’s good at undoing belts from the wrong angle and Julian doesn’t think about what that means. He just lets Albert unbutton his jeans and tug them down his legs and- 

Just like old times. Then he stops thinking. Slides his hands into Albert’s curls and tries to tell himself to not tug so hard- Albert complaining about hair loss but he can’t really help it, not when Albert’s mouth is so- 

There’s not much thought then, which is what Julian wanted all along. Except not really, because it doesn’t stop, nothing ever stops just because Julian’s having a good time. And he is having a good time, half disbelieving because even though he’s not quite sure what Albert should smell like anymore he’s still absurdly familiar with the way Albert sucks cock- does he have a technique?- and he’s not going to last much longer. Albert wraps a hand around Julian’s cock and his grip is almost on the wrong side of too much. Everything bright like screwing up his eyes under a sunny sky. 

He pulls Albert up and kisses him, doesn’t miss the way Albert has to hastily swallow and then the weird slightly salty taste of his own come in Albert’s mouth. 

“Mngh,” Albert says, and Julian doesn’t know what he means but can hazard a guess at this point. He flops over and Albert settles next to him. He can feel Albert’s shoulder in the center of his back like an anchor. When he’s just about to fall asleep he thinks Albert says, _Jules._

If they were still twenty Julian’s sure they would’ve woken up in the middle of the night or early in the morning or maybe not so early in the morning and reached for each other, again. As it was Julian wakes up at eleven with a headache and Albert’s still asleep, bruise colored half circles under his eyes. Julian looks over him at the pristine bed on the other side of the room. He puts a hand on Albert’s chest and Albert cracks an eye open to look at him. 

It’s morning. Julian doesn’t kiss him again but it’s still there, anyway, the fact and memory of it. 

“Do you want me to move to my own bed?” Albert croaks. Julian gets up, and Albert’s hand makes an aborted movement like he wanted to hold onto Julian’s wrist. 

“No,” Julian says, coming back with a bottle of water. He hands it to Albert and sinks back down. “It’s only eleven. Two more hours till check out.” 

Albert drinks his water and is silent. Then Julian feels him slide an arm around him. Julian doesn’t open his eyes; the room is too bright still. He just listens to the sound of Albert falling asleep. 

  
  



End file.
